
The street is much like any other. Narrow. Scrawny dogs sleep on the sun-baked cobbles, and people cling to the cool of the shadows. History hangs heavy in the humid air. The rattle of Sennacherib’s chariots and the tramp of Caesar’s legionaries echo faintly, along with the brutal jeers of Allenby’s Tommies. The toll of ancient bells carries screams.
I cannot love you here. The blood drowns my tenderness.
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Love this, Neil.
The last sentence is an absolute nailer.
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Thanks so much
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Blimey! Loved this Neil. Excellent.
D
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Blimey! Thanks, mate
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Great atmospheric writing, Neil. Either he’s a fighter not a lover – or whoever he’s talking to in his head is the wrong one and needs to pick up the tragic vibe and run.
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Thanks so much, Jilly.
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Very evocative. I vividly remember visiting the Roman Forum and being awed that I was walking on the same cobbles that Caesar and the like had walked along centuries before.
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Thanks so much, Iain
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Dear Neil,
Atmospheric. Vividly described with a dark twist at the end. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much, Rochelle
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The last line is a story in itself. Bravo.
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Thanks so much, Sheena
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The last line has so much!
The entire story is so true. Sounds never really die. How many can hear them?
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Thanks so much, Anita
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Marvelous descriptions in this piece
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Thanks so much, Joshua
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Oh, wow. Incredibly good writing, Neil.
I’m wondering if there is truly any place in the world, though, where there has not been blood shed to pollute the sand, the streets, the water, the air.
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Thanks so much, Linda. You make a good point
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His life must be a misery if he can pick up the events of the past in this chilling way. For there is indeed a murderous back-story to many a town that attracts visitors in this way. Beautifully written.
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Thanks so much, Sandra. He is a little too sensitive for his own good.
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Suffering seeps into stones – I have felt it in many places. Well told.
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Thanks so much, Liz
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The last two lines: awesome!
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Thanks so much, Paula
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Excellent! I loved the last two lines.
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Thanks so much, Brenda
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The history does close in on you in such ancient places, and you capture that feeling terribly well, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Dora
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I think it’s best she move on. His is not the love she wants – not that he’ll give it
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Perhaps he feels too much, rather than too little
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But it’s the what he is feeling that worries me. Outside of their couple rather than inside of it
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I find that history everywhere, so I enjoyed this story.
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Thanks, Michael. I’m generally oblivious to it except when I make an efforrt to think about it
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If those street stones could talk… Powerful writing, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Jade
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You’re very welcome.
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I like how you condense the history of the place. I am sure many people live in areas where they have no idea of the historical past – perhaps just as well as who needs reminding of the brutality of man. It is already all around us.
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Even in the shires, the whiff of grapeshot sometimes drifts on the wind
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Quite the history. Great detail. If only the streets could talk.
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Thanks so much. It seems, to some, they do talk
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Wonderfully descriptive, so atmospheric. A masterpiece Niel.
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Wow! Thanks so much, Keith
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A long and turbulent history.
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Absolutely
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Beautifully written, Neil. You really nail it with those last two sentences.
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Thanks so much, Penny
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Wow! Well told. Great mood in this.
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Thanks so much, Laurie
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If it’s a honeymoon, it seems like a bad spot. Beautiful writing. You frame your story with history so your reader understands how the protagonist feels. Wonderfully done.
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Thanks so much, Sascha
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Excellent, descriptive writing. Some people do seem to be a lot more sensitive to a place’s history than others are.
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Thanks so much, Magarisa
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